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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148457">basics of survival</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendericecoffee/pseuds/lavendericecoffee'>lavendericecoffee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Explicit Language, Face Punching, Gen, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, i guess?, there's just......A Lot there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:40:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendericecoffee/pseuds/lavendericecoffee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Athena taught Timothy everything he needed to know about survival. Now, it was time to put these skills into use.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>basics of survival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s probably taken one breath too many.</p><p>Heh. Weirdly enough, Timothy felt like this one sentence summed up his life perfectly. But this time it really has been one breath too many, one moment too late.</p><p>For the longest time, he was on the run. Hiding in various places of the casino, avoiding spending more than needed periods of time in one spot. Thankfully, Timothy was probably the person who knew this casino the most. Both from his time in hiding and from the times when this whole place was only imaginable in plans. He remembered Jack’s prideful smirk when he showed Timothy the designs. He was so damn boastful, like this place was supposed to be one of his highest achievements. And now, Timothy had to pay for his pride.</p><p>Huh. Another sentence that described Timothy’s life way too well.</p><p>Paying for Jack’s pride was lately his most prominent past time. Unfortunately, since he was always Jack’s “favorite”. The first doppelganger, the second in command. So many people hated him for this exact reason.</p><p>He had his face, his voice, his everything. He was the one who was in charge, whenever Jack couldn’t be there. Distinguished part of his plans, the always-ready replacement of his. That’s why most of people knew exactly who was 21-C. And that’s why now everyone was out there to get him.</p><p>Beforehand he preferred to repress all of his memories of vault hunter days deep inside. Jack didn’t like to mention it, so… Why would he? And yet, nowadays Timothy was almost rejoiced, he remembered so much from his vault hunter days. It was probably the reason why he was still alive in the first place. His dear friend Athena has taught him everything he needed to know about survival. Timothy took her advices dearly to his heart and repeated them every day, like a mantra.</p><p>First rule – you can’t do everything at once, so at least take breaks for the basics.</p><p>That’s what he wanted to do – just to rest before he could wander off to seek his next shelter. Timothy found the smallest of save spaces between the pavilions. He put out a lobster, he got from the nearby vendor. His mouth cringed at the way too familiar scent. Of course, it was always fancy food. He’d really thought he was a fan of these but good god, when it’s your only food for so long, didn’t just the faintest of its smells made him want to throw up. Still, it had to make do.</p><p>He ate in hurry, trying not to make any bigger sound. The tiniest of unexpected moves could get him into trouble. He finished it quickly and looked around. Nobody in sight. Surely, he could get just one more moment of so called peace. So he exhaled and leaned back.</p><p>“Here you are, you motherfucker-“</p><p>In an instant, his back tensed and eyes snapped open. Timothy knew this voice. Mostly because it was his own voice.</p><p>Second rule – a good and necessary escape is always better than an unnecessary but good combat.</p><p>There wasn’t even a split second between him realizing what was happening and him running away. Timothy was… Good at this. To put it like that. Years of service for Jack made him both great at escaping (since, well… A dead doppelganger would mostly mean a dead Jack. And that was nothing he could afford) and good at sneaking. So many nights he’s spent sneaking out of his closed room, just to get some life outside of work. Some nights better than the others.</p><p>So he ran away. His breath short, his heart pounding heavily, his movements as slick as possible, all while trying to keep himself at the lowest. For some reason, the other doppelgangers wanted to get to him even more so than the “regular” customers. Maybe, since he was the second in command, they really thought getting to him was almost like getting to Jack himself. Maybe they all want to be the last one, so they killed each other one by one. Maybe it was the side effect of some of Jack’s DNA they had injected. Oh, Timothy understood that last feeling too well.</p><p>He found another shortcut alley to stop. He tried steadying his breath, one second after the other. One of his hands gripped onto his chest, trying to slow down his heartbeat. Then, Timothy took several more steps, going away from this parlor to another safer place.</p><p>“<em>God</em>, you’re a total bitch to kill, you know? Just give up and let me do this the easier way, mmkay?” the doppelganger pointed his gun exactly to his chest.</p><p>Timothy felt himself stop in this exact moment. Only now he took a good look at that other doppelganger. His Jack outfit was torn in many places, blood splatters all over it. His mask was barely holding onto his face, so ready to slip up. Huh. Lucky.</p><p>Which one was it, now? Timothy usually remembered way more of them than Jack did. Especially the ones around Handsome Jackpot. This one… Probably 89. Oh, he hated this one. Steel cut glances, sneering, absolutely ruthless. Jack has always sent him off to do the physical jobs. One of the ones that seemed to be perfect to play the role of Jack.</p><p>He took a few steps back, his hands raised a little, as if it was supposed to even help him.</p><p>Third rule – if it was possible – talk.</p><p>“I-I’m just like you!” Timothy grimaced, trying to keep his cool. “Everyone wants to get us, so why don’t we, I dunno, act like adults and try to work it out?”</p><p>“Ohhh, you. You’ve done too much for this already, don’tcha think,” 89 pushed his gun right onto Timothy’s chest, making him trip a little. “All that shit Jack said about you exactly… Nah, I’ll pass on this one.”</p><p>So it really wasn’t possible to talk. Figures. Like with most of them.</p><p>Timothy truly wanted to believe not all of doppelgangers were the worst people alive. Just thrown into the world of playing the worst person alive. Yet, when he looked at 89 he knew exactly this wasn’t the case this time.</p><p>His broken grin, the mania in his eyes. He was losing it, Timothy could already feel it. Every little bit of him was shaking, especially his hands so tightly put onto the rifle. Just the tiniest of unexpected moves and Timothy could be lying dead on the ground. His eyes focused on 89’s face. His twisted grin and broken stare – Timothy felt like there were only several moments when he saw Jack in this state. He himself would never anticipate that his face would be even capable of doing this exact stare. And the possibility of it, sent shivers down his spine. They all really were one and the same.</p><p>“You know, it’s ironic,” 89 continued, “You’re probably the most Jack out of all us and yet, you’re still alive. So what, someone covers you? Or maybe you really are just Jack in a disguise of himself? Talk, 21-C, <em>goddammit</em>.”</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> are you even talking about? L-Look we’re both in this shitty situation because of that jackhole and… God, just look around you! I’m not the fricking enemy here,” Timothy tried his hardest to say something, anything that could get him out of this position.</p><p>“Wrong answer.”</p><p>And before he could even say anything, 89 put the rifle to one of his hands and landed a precise punch with his dominant one. Timothy’s vision got blurry as he stumbled widely. His hand went to his face. Beneath his touch, he could feel a crack on his own mask and blood running through his nose. Hurt like a motherfucker. Without being able to say anything else, 89 kicked him off to the ground.</p><p>Every single part of his body hurt. From exhaustion, from all these days spent on hiding but most importantly from everything that went down in just the split second. He tried to get up, yet the unbelievable pain in his chest made him unable to do anything. Through his almost closed eyes, Timothy could only spot 89 approaching.</p><p>“Maybe you’re Jack, maybe not. You still should probably watch your step,” he muttered, crushing Timothy’s chest with his foot.</p><p>Ah right. Just like every doppelganger, he had to talk in the most annoying way possible.</p><p>Short breath. Moments between. One look at his face. A face of his old dead heartless employer. A face of a man which haunted so many people all across the galaxies. A face of a man who everyone wanted dead. Timothy’s own face.</p><p>He knew this could be his end. There really was no point in fighting him. It’s not like Timothy Lawrence wasn’t dead for the longest time already. He could just… Finally give up. Finally stop fighting for something he’s probably stopped believing in, so many years ago.</p><p>But maybe, just maybe, he still had to believe in something. He wasn’t going to give up that easily and to this person. It wasn’t his time.</p><p>Another sharp breath. A quick look around. And an idea.</p><p>Fourth rule – never hesitate to take a chance.</p><p>Athena’s personal favorite.</p><p>Pulling all the last bits of his strength, he reached out from 89’s grip to the probably body, he’s spotted lying nearby. They carried one of Hyperion shotguns. Timothy grabbed it frantically and checked the ammo. He looked back at 89 and hoped with all his heart that Hyperion’s famous accuracy won’t fail him.</p><p>“You don’t even know my name.”</p><p>And he released the shot. Going straight through 89’s chest. Yeah, Timothy has still got it.</p><p>Fifth rule – loot whatever you need to survive longer.</p><p>Timothy fell onto the ground again, breathing heavier than he should, given the circumstances. But he needed that, he needed just a single longer moment before coming back to his reality. Then he got up a little and decided to look for anything 89 could carry with him. Just like during the good old vault hunter days.</p><p>He looked through all of pockets of his bloody, torned up racks. Eh, only some spare change and couple of things he really didn’t need to know about. That gun though… It might work up pretty fine, Timothy thought.</p><p>With a heavy step, he got up. Every bit of his body still hurt. But he was still alive. Timothy held onto 89’s gun and tried to see how it fits inside his hands. Could be better but in these circumstances, also could be worse. He really wasn’t the one to complain. Now he just needed to find an ammo vendor around, refill, and he was good to go.</p><p>He took few short steps but stopped himself again. Timothy’s shoulders dropped heavily with a sigh. Unfortunately… He really felt that unfinished business. Hence that, he went back and with his foot, he turned 89’s corpse around, giving him the last look. 89’s face…Jack’s face…His own face. Pale as all hell, not the least bits of life were visible. Timothy really knew how to get the best shot. And with a Hyperion weapon? Jack would be definitely proud.</p><p>Something inside told him, he should feel something. It should feel like killing Jack. And he’d be definitely lying, if he said he didn’t want to do it for the longest time. This bastard deserved it, just like everyone who wanted to follow him blindly. At the very least, it should feel like killing himself. Looking at his own dead face. Also a freeing option.</p><p>But instead, he felt nothing. He just sighed heavily and shook his head. It’s just a regular encounter around here, you’ve seen this millions of times, he repeated in his mind. When his heart calmed just a little, he wandered off, trying to find another place to crash to. Hopefully maybe someone who wouldn’t want to kill him right away. Even it was just wishful thinking.</p><p>Timothy Lawrence gets to live another day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Spok: you know, he should've had a gun, he even said that he's killed some doppelgangers<br/>me: oh yea, I remember that line<br/>me, understanding the implications of that and what it means for Timothy's character: <i>wait, no</i></p></blockquote></div></div>
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